


you'll be the lamb, and we'll be the slaughter

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Established Friendship, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, Revenge, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, c!phil and c!techno deserve a taste of their own medicine me thinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29306007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “You hate anyone but yourself having power. You’re a fucking tyrant.” Techno’s eyes narrow and his mouth opens, likely to argue his innocence, but Tommy just cackles, a sharp and grating thing that seems to carry through the wind and drift off into the cold air. “You never taught anyone the lesson about anarchy you supposedly intended. You taught them to fear power, you taught them to fearyou."[Tommy decides to pay what is left of his family a visit and teach them a lesson using their own methods.]
Relationships: Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 597
Collections: Anonymous





	you'll be the lamb, and we'll be the slaughter

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this anonymously because I wrote it in like two hours and I can't be bothered to reread to see if it makes sense. 
> 
> This was largely born from my consistent hatred for c!Phil and my many, many issues with c!Technoblade, but I also came up with the idea because I really wanted more from Ranboo and Tommy's early exile friendship.

Tommy cannot pinpoint exactly when violence had become engraved into his history. 

Perhaps it started in the remains of a drug van with the phantom feeling of an arrow still piercing through his neck. Maybe it started when the nation he had helped found turned to rubble beneath his feet and his brother decided that summoning withers was the best course of action

All Tommy knows is that such destruction is inescapable now. It is inevitable that wherever he treds, whether he’s leaving behind footprints in the arctic snow or in the sand of an isolated beach, will always face unnecessary conflict some day.

He’s learnt that lesson several times over from the best tutors, the most suited to teaching silly little ideas to a town full of victims - his own father and brother. Phil and Technoblade bleed out violence as if it is their lifeline and no one can blame the youngest member of their family for being so impressionable.

Tommy leans back against the smooth wall that leads into Techno’s secret vault, humming the tune of Cat as he taps his foot against the crumbling snow. The weight of his compass clenched tightly in the palm of his hand is grounding and he does not flinch when the human wearing the face of a boar approaches.

“Theseus,” Technoblade almost growls, teeth flashing in the feral snarl that pulls at his mouth. He clearly isn’t in the mood for meaningless pleasantries and perhaps that kind of attitude would have made a younger Tommy, fresh from exile with brand new battle scars, flinch and quiver in the corner of his cave.

But this Tommy is a little bit stronger, a little more reckless, a little more uncaring of the consequences. He smiles, the corners of his lips tilted up falsely, while his voice remains even and flat. “Technoblade,” Tommy greets, the grin becoming a little bit more real when Techno reels back at the emotionless tone of his voice.

“What are you here for?” Techno asks, but there’s a stuttering quality to his voice, as if he is nearly tripping over his words. He had probably never expected Tommy to be so unmoved by his appearance, not when the boy used to tremble at the face of any genuine anger. “Back to beg for more resources again?”

Tommy doesn’t cave to the weak attempt at taunting, not when he knows much better of himself now, even if it may have taken several weeks of Puffy’s therapy sessions to truly get past his walls. There is nothing weak about begging, especially not to a family that is meant to actually care about your well-being.

But Tommy doesn’t beg anymore. He asks calmly instead, turning his little thieving habits of grabbing whatever he could out of random chests into timid questions and then eventually boisterous promises to pay them back. There’s nothing weak about asking and Tommy was never weak to begin with, not when the netherite armour that lies beneath his trench coat was all of his own making.

“I just wanted to have a chat,” Tommy replies, the utter image of being calm and collected, even if he cannot calm the restless nature of his legs. He shoves his freezing hands into his pockets, shivering still under the snowfall, but keeps that infuriating grin plastered on his face. “I realised, back on Doomsday, we didn’t get to talk properly. We just kept screaming and well, I never got my point across properly, so-”

Tommy takes a deep breath, tilting his head to the side as he analyses Techno’s tense posture and the way his hand keeps twitching to his sword. He’s so predictable it hurts to watch and Tommy’s grin turns a little more wild, pulling the corners into a dangerous smirk of sharp teeth and cracked lips.

“I fucking despise you.” His tone turns bitter before Techno can even blink and he watches with easy satisfaction as the hybrid rears back in shock. Because yes, Tommy gets so angry that he burns as bright as the lava he had nearly casted himself into, but he’s aflame in anger because he cares so deeply, because he loves those that always turn their back on him.

There is none of that love left here. “I didn’t, for a long time. I’m not sure how I managed that for so long, but I’d lie in the ocean at Logstedshire and imagine that the waves could carry me back to you and Phil.” Tommy sneers at the ugly thought, watching as Techno’s facade of calm begins to crack.

“It was a bit pathetic, wasn’t it? Wanting the dad back that killed your brother, wanting back the brother that beat you half to death in a pit. But it’s not like I really had a choice, you know? It was either the family that didn’t give a shit about me or the green bastard focused on manipulating me till I tried topping myself.” The words spill out in a rush now that the dam holding them back has busted open.

“What?” Techno asks, his voice cracking with strain, and Tommy peers his way to find those dark eyes exposed, the mask of bone pulled off Techno’s sharp features to reveal the sickly pale skin beneath. “Tommy, are you trying to tell me-”

“No one ever asked what happened to me in exile,” Tommy cuts him off, shifting from foot to foot at the uncomfortable edge in Techno’s eyes. He isn’t asking for pity, he is asking for Techno to wake the fuck up and finally face the music. “I thought I’d end up taking all of that to the grave. Because no one, not even my own brother, wanted to ask.”

“But you knew, at least a little bit, didn’t you?” Techno shrinks in on himself, the guilt glossy as it takes over his gaze, and Tommy could laugh at how funny he finds the sight of the Blood God, defeated by the words of a child. “You knew that Dream had abused me and you still joined up with him. And all for what? To hurt me?”

Tommy does laugh this time, tilting his head back till it hits the stone, the slight pain spreading through his skull enough to make the bright noise dim. “Trust me, Techno. You had hurt me enough long before then.” His fingers tighten around the rusted edges of his compass and he thinks of bright-eyed, softly smiling Tubbo. “But this isn’t about me. Just about me, at least.”

“I don’t think you realise it. You’re not dumb, Techno, I know you’re not, but you’re somehow so fucking oblivious to your own crimes.” That makes Techno’s shackles rise once more, his features schooled in the perfect show of emotionless even if his eyes are bare for all to see. “You hate anyone but yourself having power. You’re a fucking tyrant.”

Techno’s eyes narrow and his mouth opens, likely to argue his innocence, but Tommy just cackles, a sharp and grating thing that seems to carry through the wind and drift off into the cold air. “You never taught anyone the lesson about anarchy you supposedly intended. You taught them to fear power, you taught them to fear _you.”_

“And maybe you don’t care about that. More blood for the blood god, or whatever. But all you did was abolish a government and then put yourself at the top of the hierarchy. No laws, just death and destruction at your hand, and for what? Just your own self-satisfaction?”

“L’Manburg started it all,” Techno finally tries to defend himself, even though Tommy will never be stupid enough to grant him absolution. “They came knocking on my door just to execute me, they put Phil on house arrest, they exiled you-”

“Don’t try and make me part of your justification.” Tommy holds back the sudden surge of violet anger that rushes through his veins, digging his nails into his palms to keep him tethered. Without Sam by his side, he’s a tad more volatile and nothing except his own willpower is going to hold him back from breaking Techno’s nose.

“L’Manburg didn’t try to execute you. L’Manburg didn’t lock Phil in his house. L’Manburg didn’t exile me. The cabinet did and even then, everything always leads back to Dream.” All of the conflict is rooted in just one man high on his god complex, manipulating others to do his bidding for him. “But what about everyone else? What about the people who had no part in this?”

“Did they deserve to have their homes burnt down? Did Tubbo, who is barely a year older than me, who only exiled me because otherwise Dream would have killed everyone in L’Manburg till they stayed dead, who only went after you because he was pressured into it, deserve this?”

“Does Quackity, who is only so desperate to take you down after you destroyed our home because he never got the chance to get back at Schlatt, deserve this? Does Fundy, your damn nephew, who lost his father to this family’s conflict, deserve this? And what the hell did Niki and Jack even do to warrant watching L’Manurg fall all over again?”

Techno stays silent and Tommy strides forward, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction when Techno takes a step back, nervousness hidden beneath his poker face expression. “Did they deserve your retribution, huh? Did- Did I? Was it worth ruining everything for everyone just to get back at me? Answer me, Technoblade!”

Tommy pauses, chest heaving as seconds pass, and Techno does not attempt to defend himself. He just stares down at Tommy as if he has never seen his baby brother before in his life, the fire ignited in once dull eyes a sign of a phoenix reborn.

“And stop hiding yourself behind your pity me speeches. You’re not innocent in any of this. You never stopped telling me our agreement was temporary, you kept leading me down a path I never wanted to take, and you have the audacity to call me a traitor when I realise the damage it has done?”

“Maybe it was wrong of L’Manburg to call for your execution, even if they saw it as a form of justice. Maybe L’Manburg lost its understanding of peace. But that never gave you the right to raise it down all the way to bedrock.” Tommy’s voice, loud but with none of his usual vibrance, is deafening in the silence that only harsh winters can bring. 

The quiet that spreads across the land allows Tommy to pick up on the sound of ice crunched under heavy boots and he holds back a pleased grin when two figures appear in the distance, one shorter with wings dragging behind his back, the other much, much taller with pointed ears and gangly limbs.

“What is going on here?” Phil asks, his sharp tone exuding the scolding nature of a disappointed father. Tommy thinks it is a little late for the man to begin to pretend he is anything but a mere acquaintance to him. It’s laughable, really, how he quickly stands at Techno’s side, broken wings shielding the prodigal son.

“Hello to you too, Phil,” Tommy smiles and perhaps it is even more obvious how the happiness does not reach his eyes, for Phil’s expression grows strange, almost remorseful even though Tommy has yet to even voice any complaints in his direction. “Me and Techno were just having a chat. And I might as well pass the same message on to you.”

“You are not my father,” Tommy says simply, pleased expression growing in honesty at the sharp gasp that rattles through Phil’s chest. It isn’t that much of a shock, not to Tommy at least, not when he has faced years upon years of fatherly neglect. Part of him, given Phil’s scathing expression as TNT rained down from the sky, assumed he had already been disowned long ago.

Ranboo lingers nervously at the side, ears twitching as his gaze drifts uncertainly between the figures of a father and son entwined together in loyalty, and the forgotten child that stands before them, finding victory in sharp words. Tommy holds back the urge to send him a disarming, genuine smile that is reserved only for his closest allies.

“You have never been my father. You have only ever seen me as Theseus. But I’m not Theseus, I’m not a protagonist who can face any beating that comes their way. I’m a child and I deserve better than this.”

Tommy sighs, running a hand through the messy strands of hair that fall over his forehead, still overgrown from his time in exile. “But if you insist, I’ll be the hero of this story. And I guess that makes the two of you-” Tommy points his finger at the pair of them, two people who think themselves above any deity, practically prodding Phil in the chest. “The villains.”

“And a hero always needs their allies, don’t they?” He watches both their eyes stray behind Tommy’s shoulders, as if they expect Tubbo to come tumbling out of nowhere. It’s naive of them to ever think he would put Tubbo at risk of staring down another rocket launcher. No, he chose an ally, a friend, that would be much more detrimental to their plans. 

Tommy extends a hand out to the side, flashing a smile that does not come with ulterior motives for once, and Ranboo responds with his own, albeit a bit more shaky and trembling. Claws unlock the clasp that had kept the pale blue cloak around his shoulders and it tumbles to the ground, Ranboo trampling it with little care as he stands just behind Tommy, towering over his head as an imposing warning. 

Techno’s eyes widen as the half-enderman slips an apple covered in golden sheer out of his inventory and into Tommy’s open palm, the boy quickly sinking his teeth past the skin and grinning around the mouthful. He’s no longer addicted to these things but it’s always fun to steal a bite out of someone else’s stash.

Ranboo catches the accusations in Phil’s glare and shrugs helplessly. “I told Tommy that no matter what happens, I’d help him. And when he told me everything - about Dream, about you-” It comes out with a heavy layer of disgust and Phil flinches at the sudden hostility, Ranboo’s mismatched eyes growing sharper as he faintly recalls the tales of abandonment. “Well, I had to help him out.”

“Continuing to play neighbours with you wasn’t all that hard,” Ranboo admits. “It doesn’t matter that I had to waste a couple more months here, since I’ll end up forgetting most of it soon anyways.”

“You used me,” Techno breathes out and Tommy sees the tell-tale signs of a man betrayed begin to become evident in the twitch that develops in his brow. “You used both of us, just for him?”

“Well, I thought you were planning on using me first. Isn’t that how it works around here?” Ranboo asks, gaze harsh and unwavering even though Ranboo has always hated holding eye contact. There’s guilt in the expressions of the family Tommy wishes he could forget, memories of considering using something as damaging as memory loss to their advantage.

“We were just business partners, right, Technoblade?” Tommy asks, a shiver of anticipation running up his spine. “No attachments here, no actual friendship. We aren’t brothers, so doing this wouldn’t be an act of betrayal, right?” Techno doesn’t know what he’s talking about when Tommy turns to stare past Ranboo’s shoulder. “You ready, big man?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Ranboo sighs, always begrudgingly pulled into the messy situations his younger friends find themselves involved in, and Tommy grins, switching the compass to something else in his inventory - a small little button.

“Theseus-” And there’s that name again, the one that makes Tommy’s blood run cold. “What are you planning?”

“Well,” Tommy drags out the word, his tone easy-going and almost cheerful, as he walks back over to the stone wall and places the button right above where he had made a notch weeks ago, when Techno and Phil were too busy creating their little syndicate to notice. “I’m just doing what you guys taught me to do. Violence is the only universal language and since you won’t listen to my words…”

Tommy turns on his heel, smiling soft, something a little more muted. “I guess you’ll have to listen to this instead.” And with that he throws his fist back and pushes the detonator. 

It happens in the blink of an eye. Stacks and stacks of TNT, placed under the guise of night, lined all the way from their secret chambers to the unused room that had once belonged to the petty thief beneath Techno’s floorboards, begin to light up the white ground, leaving craters in their wake as the explosions shudder the ground beneath everyone’s feet.

Tommy blinks back the flashes of brightness, ears still ringing slightly, and takes in the ravaged landscape, the devastating hole in the mountain behind his back and the ravine that was created out of unknown passageways and the giant hole where Techno’s homely, deceiving cabin once stood.

Phil collapses to the ground, knees sinking deeper and deeper as his damaged wings flap anxiously behind his back, the charred edges standing out so blatantly against the snow. He looks every bit the defeated, grieving father who had shoved a sword through Wilbur’s chest and then never bothered to make up for his mistakes, instead burying himself further and further into his own self-pity. 

Techno, blind in rage, grabs a pickaxe from his inventory, as Phil stutters by his side, completely shocked still, not aware enough to fully comprehend that his son may be ready to stick a blade right through his brother’s skull.

“A lot of things were never meant to be.” Tommy grins and he’s sure if either of them bothered to stare for long enough, they would see the vision of a child with scraped knees and colourful band aids over his scratched arms. That child once had the ability to give out loyalty so easily. That child exists no longer, even if the people on this server think he does when the idea works in their favour. “I think our family was at the top of that list.”

And with that, Ranboo reaches out, grip tight around his arm, and they vanish into a mass of purple particles, tumbling into the thin layer of snow that rests over Tubbo’s doorway. The entrance slams open and Tommy hears the comforting hiss of a creeper before he is gathered into Sam’s arms, into the embrace of a father that may not be biological, but is one in everything but blood. Tommy is safe now, right at home with his real loved ones.

Violence is all Tommy was ever taught. Perhaps this family, the one that truly matters, will be able to help him learn how to be human again.


End file.
